Flesh & Bone (Rot & Ruin, #3)(96)
“If any of them as much as twitches, I’m going to punch a Benny-shaped hole right through the wall,” he said.
“Just don’t get in my way,” said Nix.
The muted moan of the zoms followed them.
“God,” she said, “I can’t stand to look at them.”
“I know.”
Benny saw a row of blue boxes against one wall and sidled past the front row of seated zoms. Each box was labeled: HOPE 1
AMERICAN NATION BIOLOGICAL RESEARCH AND TESTING FACILITY
FIELD RESEARCH & RECORDS
There were over eighty boxes.
“Lot of research,” he murmured.
“What?” asked Nix from across the bay.
Benny turned away. “Nothing,” he said. “Just junk. Let’s get the heck out of here.”
They crept past the zoms again, hurried down the corridor, and stepped into the hatch. Nix dropped the torch and stamped it out as Benny pulled the door shut.
They peered over the edge of the hatch, saw only empty desert and the sparse forest, and climbed down the plastic sheeting.
“Let’s go,” said Nix as she swung her leg over the edge.
“I’ll be down in a sec,” said Benny as he fished his matches out of his vest pocket. “There’s plenty of wax here. I’m going to reseal the doors. Maybe they won’t know we’ve been in here.”
Nix nodded and began climbing down. “Don’t take too long.”
It wasn’t difficult work. Benny used some dried twigs from among the debris to hold the flame, and he picked up all the wax he could find and dribbled it over the handles, then pressed the red ribbons back in place. The original job had been thorough but not neat, and his finished product looked about the same. He nodded, satisfied, then ground the burning twig underfoot and moved to the open hatch.
He was just about to call Nix’s name when he heard her scream.
Benny saw why.
She stood in the clearing near where they had exited the forest earlier, but she was not alone.
She was surrounded by a dozen reapers.
77
SAINT JOHN STOOD ON A ROCKY OUTCROP THAT OFFERED AN EXCELLENT view of the forest, the plateau, and the surrounding desert. Brother Peter and other trusted reapers had come and gone a dozen times over the last hour, bringing him information on everything that happened inside the forest.
“Observe only,” Saint John had instructed them. “Do not be seen, and do not interfere until you have talked to me.”
These reapers were his, heart and soul, and they obeyed without question. They were also very smart and highly trained. They moved like ghosts and they watched like owls. For some of them it was hard not to take action. It was as if the knives at their belts ached to open red mouths in every person who moved under the desert sun.
As his reapers brought him pieces of the strange puzzle, Saint John assembled them into a picture whose image did not entirely surprise him, though it saddened him, threatening to break his heart.
So many things happening at once.
Riot had been spotted. Carter’s daughter, Eve, and an unknown heretic—a Chinese boy whose body was wrapped in bandages—were with Riot, sharing a quad with her. They were heading by a circuitous route toward the Shrine of the Fallen.
The ranger, Joe, had also been seen. A dozen reapers had fled from him rather than lay down their own lives to send that sinner into the darkness. Saint John would have Brother Peter re-educate them in some matters of faith.
The ranger, it seemed, was also heading toward the shrine.
And two children had been seen climbing into the shrine itself. A red-haired girl with a scarred face and a boy with Japanese eyes.
Nyx and her knight.
That was a piece of the puzzle Saint John did not yet understand. Several intriguing possibilities occurred to him, each of them dependent on whether this Nyx was a true manifestation of Thanatos’s mother on earth. If she was something false, perhaps a demon of one of the old religions, then things could turn against God’s will. Saint John would send Brother Peter to learn the truth.
Brother Peter came to join him.
“Honored One, I sent a hundred runners out,” he said. “It will take at least a week to gather everyone from Utah and the other states.”
“That is good. We will leave coded signs so they may follow us.”
The young man nodded toward the line of red mountains that separated the forest from the vast desert.
“Sanctuary is so close,” he said, amazed. “All this time, so close.”
“We were not meant to find it sooner than now.”
Brother Peter glanced at him. “We’ve looked for it so long. . . . ”
“And in doing so we’ve put our own desires before the will of our god. The fact that its location was withheld from us is proof that God had other work for us.”
“But . . . we can take it. We have the numbers.”
“All things in their time,” said the saint with mild reproof in his voice.
Brother Peter placed his hand on his wings and bowed. “Forgive a sinner, Honored One.”
Saint John patted his shoulder.
They both looked off toward the northeast.
“Nine towns,” murmured Saint John.
“Nine towns,” agreed Peter.
“When we come back this way,” said the saint, “our army will have grown. Remember, we are not seeking a battle—the lord of the darkness simply wants a victory. A knife will accomplish this, but a tsunami will do it more surely.”